The Last Thing, She Ever Wrote
by Pinkpillow19
Summary: As she looked into the depths of her soul she knew this would be it. The words were fleeting out of lips that could no longer speak, no longer taste the world in all of its colors. The pen danced along the page, running out of ink. Who knew if anyone would ever be able to grasp what she meant. As the sun went out, she released a breath. It was the last thing she ever wrote.


A quick One-shot I wrote in 2016 on Deviantart Titled: The Last Thing She Ever Wrote (Kellyp4evermi/Pinkpillow19/grainsofexcellence)

I read an amazing companion story today to Letting Go, by the same author (McDumbles) and it inspired me to work on finishing this.

It started out as a freeform spoken word poem about Regina but I knew where the story was headed.

ENJOY the crushing of your feels ;)

This is a first release - I researve the right to re-write.

TRIGGER WARNING! Suicidal thoughts/actions not too intense but if that's not your jam best to move along.

…...

 **The Last Thing She Ever Wrote**

As she looked down into the depths of her soul she knew this would be it.

The end to a long line.

The words were fleeting out of lips that could no longer speak,

no longer taste the world in all of its colors.

The pen danced along the page, running out of ink.

Thoughts dove this way and that, with great agility, trying to free themselves. Sight didn't exist, it didn't need to, there was only the page.

One page, with words.

Who knew if anyone would ever be able to read, or grasp what she meant.

She knew the sun was setting, her time was running out.

Soon there would be no more light, to feel the line of her pen to the paper. The words would soon become hieroglyphs and the world would dim and slip into night.

As the sun went out, she released a breath. It was the last thing she ever wrote…

…

Emma had a bad feeling. The moment the Mayor fled from the hospital, choking out one last 'I love you' to her soon to be demise, her son of 11 years, Emma felt a cold pang in her heart. She had locked eyes with Regina just as the women fled. Time seemed to slow as she watched Regina's pupils dilate in fear and sadness. She had lost, she was destroyed. Emma turned to her beaming son who was awake and well but the previous moment of relief was gone. She had a bad feeling.

She tried to fight off the feeling, this wasn't the first time she felt impending doom, but it didn't pass. As a matter of fact it grew stronger with every tick, every moment that raced by. Emma held her son to try and protect herself from the coldness taking over, and she waited for the world to stop, it didn't.

…

Regina was successful in stumbling home to 108 mifflin street, though she had a complete blackout with how she had traveled there. Did she use magic? Had she walked the whole way and simply forgotten? She glanced around the house and every perfection mocked her existence, mocked what had become of herlife the moment her son woke up with such disdain in his eyes.

She needed to get out of here, she grabbed a notebook from her desk, later she would realize she was already planning the end without realizing what she was doing. She closed her eyes and poofed to her vault letting the desire to hide away in this cold palace be the only thought that consumed her mind. She approached the concrete building as if someone might see, as if someone was watching her, or watching over her - she wished.

She raised an unsteady hand to the door and closed her eyes, magic was feeling, the door swung open at the hing. With the flick of her hand her father's tomb was shifted aside for her decent to the wall of hearts and further back to her hidden room. She found her safe and opened it gently. Her fingers gliding over the numbers. Her eyes locked on what she was looking for, weapons she kept just in case. This world was just as dangerous, if not more so, than the enchanted forest.

Her hand felt the smooth metal of a gun, a bit cold to the touch, and she glanced at a dagger that had once been given to her by Rumple himself. For a moment she set the metal object back down to retrieve the knife.

The weight solid in her hands, her finger went to test the blade and it was sharp. Her finger tip bloomed where it had connected with the blade and the brunette watched mesmerized as the blood dripped to the floor. Confusion crossing her features as to why she couldn't feel it. She curiously cut her hand to see what the effects to her nervous system were, but again nothing, nothing at all. She went to attempt further experiments on herself when her phone she had set in the safe, buzzed, causing her to drop the dagger. She jumped as it clattered on the floor.

She moved to her phone to gaze unhelpfully at a lock screen photo of her and her baby boy, with an alert to remind her of her sons upcoming dental appointment. For a brief moment she thought about letting Emma know, but was quickly swept up in self loathing and destructive thoughts.

The blond could figure things out, she was his mother now, they didn't need her. She angrily went to her liquor cabinet and busted the top off of a bottle of expensive whisky. And she drank, and inhaled as much as she could. When the liquid seemed to not be coming out fast enough she threw the container at the wall, a shower of glass responding to her anger, and a nasty brown hue taking up residence on her pristine walls.

She found another bottle and plopped herself on her white couch, crossing from angry to despair so quickly it gave her a head rush. She knew she shouldn't but she pulled out a photo album, and started to stain it red without intention. She saw her happy boy, the one who loved her, the one person to ever truly love her, and she was hit with the weight of his loss. She would never again hold him in her arms through a storm, watch him go off on his first date, watch him graduate and go off on some adventure weather it be college or a sojourn abroad.

She sobbed and heald the bottle of liquid to her temple. She grabbed her phone and tried to call Henry… it went unanswered.

She tried a text, 'hi honey, please let me know when you would like to come pick up your things, or it you would like me to box them up and drop them off with Emma, love you, Mom'.

She waited, her heart beating so hard it caused her great pain but as the moments ticked by on her phone and the liquid disappeared from her bottle, darkness started to suffocate her. She tried calling 10 times in a row.

She tried more desperate texts, 'please Henry, I just need to hear from you and know you are ok.', 'please sweetheart I'll do anything', but nothing was happening. Regina dove her hands into her hair and pulled, nothing was going to get better, nothing could get better. She found herself grabbing her notebook and a heavy object and headed outside.

She fell to the ground and gasped at the realization of what she was doing, she found it hard to keep breathing. Her tongue felt dry in her mouth. She opened the book and popped the pen cap off, losing it somewhere off in the bushes, but no matter.

She started to scribble a note as her tears marred her vision. She no longer knew what the page looked like as too quickly she couldn't see through her lashes as they were flooding with tears. She didn't hear her sobs as they had grown silent and unearthly. And yet she scribbled on, not knowing if anyone would ever find this, if anyone would even care. Dark shadows started to take hold and she knew the day was ending, the sun finally setting.

She placed the page back in the notebook, a breezing causing the page to vibrate softly. She picked up a heavy object and placed it to her head, she released a breath as day turned to night.

It was the last thing she ever wrote.

….

Emma had been frantic searching the town for her son's brunette mother. Something about Regina's gazed had bothered her so much. She couldn't, wouldn't rest until she knew the woman was ok.

She had been to her office, to her home and was hoping she would finally find her at her family's resting place. She wasn't a runner, Emma Swan had abhorred running her whole life but as her pulse quickened she started to race. She felt her lungs burn and she felt her muscles and joints crackle with fire. She was almost there, she could make it.

As the sun started to set the last bit of daylight glinted off of something in the distance, and she yelled.

She finally broke into the clearing and didn't stop running. She could see Regina sat on the steps with a presumably loaded gun to her head, noticing the blood running down her arms pushed her to run faster.

"REGINA!" she screamed so hard her voice protested and cracked. The brunette didn't glance up, she hadn't heard her. This was all a bad dream, a night terror.

She watched as the brunette took a deep breath and her finger started to twitch. Emma screamed again she was almost there, so close, she could almost….

Dark eyes lifted then startled at the figure running toward her. Caught in the headlights. Emma was 10ft, 5ft, then stopped. Falling to her knees Emma struggled to stand again.

"Regina, put the gun down." Her voice was firm and angry,

Regina started to tremble. She shook her head.

"Go away Emma…."

She had always focused on calling the annoying woman Miss Swan, but she lost her focus in the moment.

"Henry will finally be free to be happy with me gone… " her voice grew soft, "Isn't this what you wanted, savior?" a sad smile gracing her lips.

Emma took a small step forward her hands up in front of her.

"Gina, please… let's talk about this…"

Regina's finger twitched. "Just throw me into the building so I'm not alone anymore…"

Emma held her hand out, "You're not alone Regina, I'm right here."

She was getting so close, Regina closed her eyes and the next moment a warm hand was felt on her wrist, the voice was so soft it was like a lovers caress.

"Regina, give it to me… I've got you, I promise."

Regina's body shook and she moved her head back and forth. She felt the hand on her wrist grip harder and she felt the gun being pulled from her hand.

She curled up into the fetal position and felt a warm body wrap around her.

"I've got you. It's going to be ok."

…..

Emma disarmed the gun, and carried the woman towards her car, pulling out a first aid kit to tend to the multiple wounds she assumed the queen had inflicted upon herself. And she drove them to the mansion. And found herself holding the dark queen on the couch hoping everything would really be alright.


End file.
